


Crying On the Corpse Of My Mind

by farmersmumz



Category: sweet pool
Genre: Cannibalism, Gore, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farmersmumz/pseuds/farmersmumz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post bad ending, Makoto carries the weight of his final act of love. The hunger sets in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crying On the Corpse Of My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if there are errors, I'll edit it sometime later.

Makoto took in a deep breath. It was the kind of breath that left a dull, painful chill in the bottom of your lungs while simultaneously starting a fire in the back of your throat. He knitted his crimson soaked fingers through his chestnut locks as the foul smell of iron and viscera filled his nostrils. The scent was putrid; it scraped against his every nerve reminding him of his final act of love. Although this pungent odor filled every crevice of the cramped room he noted that the previous scent had finally disappeared. It was the smell that drove him insane in his every waking moment. It kept him up for days at a time not letting him rest no matter how much the exhaustion pounded away at his temples.

He propped his knees up to his chest, hugging himself as he looked over to the opposite side of the bed. The pale body wrapped up in rust stained sheets looked almost like a piece of art. The way his porcelain skin covered in yellow and purple blotches contrasted with the surrounding discolored sheets resembled an angel from an oil painting. His skin was a marble wall containing beautiful red rivers that was begging to be cracked, torn apart and ultimately demolished so that his true beauty could be exposed. And Makoto lent his hand in that creation. Youji was already a celestial creation but he wasn't at his true potential yet. Only when he had become stiff and cold was he at the utmost definition of divine. Because now he couldn't run away.

The bed creaked when Makoto crawled over to the corpse. He moved his legs under Youji’s head and set it over his thighs. A hollow laugh sounded in the quiet room at the sudden contact. He ran his fingers through Youji’s raven hair and gently massaged his scalp in a small gesture of comfort. When he closed his eyes he could have sworn he felt the warmth from Youji’s cheeks radiate against his skin. Makoto closed his eyes and escaped from his reality.

He imagined sitting on the school roof during lunch time. The wind was a little chilly but the intimacy was worth it. He was propped against the fence while Youji laid his head on his lap. There were no words spoke, their mutual company was enough. Knowing that the both of them were both there for each other was stronger than words could ever be. Makoto looked down at Youji’s resting face. His thick eyelashes resting on his slightly reddened cheeks while his mouth took in soft breaths made the scene all too peaceful. As he laid there in complete serenity Makoto traced his fingers from Youji’s head down to his slender neck. It was velvet until his fingers brushed against a sticky ridge. As he began to feel uneasy his fingers moved against his will and continued to dig into the moist crater of crimson and flesh. He brought his fingers up to his eyes and saw the red running down his fingertips. The tears were almost instant as they welled up in the corners of his eyes. He couldn't stay here forever. Every time he tried it seemed to get more difficult without something going wrong so fast. He kept his eyes shut knowing that the second he opened them that he’d no longer be on top of that peaceful roof. As the next wind blew the vicious smell once again found its way into his nose. When he opened his eyes he was once again in the cold, dark room.

The only thing that remained the same from in his mind was the blood on his digits and the tears pouring down his cheeks. He continued to feel at the gaping wound in the side of Youji’s neck. The tissue was torn into bits, shredded completely. He ran his tongue over his teeth feeling the little bits of Youji clamped in between his canines. The faded taste of iron still sat on the back of his taste buds and tainted the saliva running down his throat. His stomach rumbled loudly and a small cramp formed in his abdomen. Trembling, his hand found its way to his mouth. He hesitantly opened his mouth slightly and stuck both his index and middle fingers into his mouth. He began lightly sucking onto them, wiping away the red mess with his tongue as he hungrily sucked down the salty flavor. The taste of flesh and blood was something he never thought he would come to need, especially the sweet taste of his best friend. All emotions swirled as wild as a raging tornado when he indulged in his darkest craving: temptation, disgust, repulsion, denial, anger, grief, nirvana, and completion. Everything had become too confusing, his mind tearing itself into pieces relentlessly. There was only one thing that was clear ever since he’d corrupted: the hunger.

The first time he’d let himself fall into the decadent desire was an unfortunate mishap. It occurred when after he’d tried to show Youji how much he loved him. He knew how his body worked so why wasn't he responding right? He knew how to worship him like God, he could give him all the love in the world. So why wasn't it enough? Why couldn't Youji see how much he cared about him? What was he missing? He was bothered and bothered. And bothered and bothered and bothered. Maybe it was because of him, that big, blonde guy from their class. He always gave Youji these bizarre looks, like a starving hawk glowering at its prey. He was going to hurt Youji, no way in hell would Makoto let that monster sink his claws into precious Youji. No one would ever have him. No one. Youji wouldn't understand, he could never understand. Makoto just wanted to keep him away from everyone else and let him only bask in his affection. Youji cried. He still didn't accept him.

Then something vile possessed Makoto. A malicious feeling took over and an itching grew fierce in his teeth. The itch continued to grow, spreading a flame over his entire body the same way the scent did. Youji looked terrified but he also looked tantalizing. His neck was milky with a few red marks smudged and etched into his skin. That skin, the smell, everything was only making his head more cloudy and his mouth began to salivate. With finesse he rushed over to Youji and sank his teeth into his neck much like a hungry wolf digging into its meal. Youji’s arms began flailing as he tried to pry Makoto off of him however Makoto’s grip was much stronger than he imagined. As his screams began to bubble and his nails raked down Makoto’s shoulders everything started going dim. The sound of Youji’s heart pounded away slowly in his ears and the pain began to dull. With a strong tear, Makoto finally tore a hunk of his neck away and Youji fell backwards into the mattress. The blood was spurting out of his neck, his breathing became short and quick as his chest dipped up and down furiously. Although he knew he was about to die he just looked up at Makoto, seeing the tears and blood paint streaks down his face. Makoto’s eyes were dim, not a single shimmer they once possessed was visible. Is this what love was? Youji felt the chill climb up his limbs and into his chest as everything began to fuzz over. He felt incredibly tired, his lids drooped almost shut. With a last glance he looked over to Makoto, his solemn face contorting into a mix between anguish and sorrow. He screamed his name until his throat was raw and Youji smiled softly. This wasn't love.

Ever since Youji had gone Makoto still made time for him as much as he could. After all Youji deserved all of his attention. He couldn't remember how long it’d been since he started spending time with him. Had it been days? Hours? To be honest, Makoto couldn't recall exactly how long he’d been in that room. He had a vague memory of leaving at one point but did he really go or did he just imagine it? With his slender fingers he ghosted over Youji’s arm, following the pattern of the veins until he reached cold fingertips. Makoto readjusted himself so that he was no longer under Youji and scooted off the side of the bed. He grabbed Youji’s shoulders and pulled them upwards towards the wall where he laid pillows. Makoto propped Youji’s back against them so he was slightly sitting up. Now it looked even more convincing that he was sleeping. Pleased with his work Makoto faintly smiled and climbed over Youji to get on his right side. He lied on his side and tucked his right arm under the curve of Youji’s back while placing his left one over his stomach. Then he laid his head on Youji’s chest, silently sighing to himself upon getting into a comfortable position. He grabbed Youji’s left arm with his hand and intertwined their fingers so that they locked within each other finalizing the last steps of his affectionate embrace. Everything was silent. The prominent sound coming from Makoto’s gleeful coos and giggles. He ran his foot over Youji’s shin and playfully poked him with his toes, hoping to make him fuss over how cold they were. Instead it was Makoto who noticed how cold Youji was. His ear was pressed against his chest but there was no sound. It was empty. A mocking silence hung where the drumbeat of a heart should be thundering. He tightened his grip around Youji’s fingers but to no avail they remained unclutched and didn't return the squeeze.

He wasn't coming back.

A hideous malice once again filled Makoto’s body from his heart to his lungs, causing him to tremor and suffocate. He pushed himself up with his elbows and propelled himself to swing over Youji’s body, planting himself over his hips. He leaned over Youji, cautiously placing a hand on his cheek while rubbing his thumb against it.

“Youji, wake up,” he cried softly.

He cupped his hand behind Youji’s head and brought it towards him. He tilted his head slightly and pressed his lips against Youji’s own. Makoto placed a gentle pressure against them in hoped that he might feel a push back. With a small smack he drew his mouth back and frantically searched for any small twitch on his face. But there was none. Everything felt so hollow. In frustration Makoto buried his face in Youji’s neck, uncaring about the gash getting sticky red mess on him. Feeling utterly hopeless Makoto let out a choked sob as he clung onto the other’s body. The pain felt too harsh, his heart crumbling slowly like an old temple eroding into the cold wind. With each howl his mouth dried and his stomach cramped from the agony. The tears dropped onto Youji’s shoulder and dribbled down his chest, dampening Makoto’s chest as well.

He didn't care about how beautiful Youji was any more, he’s rather be blind than have Youji the way he was now. Makoto would do anything if he could just hear that honeyed voice, see those ashen orbs shimmer, and feel that intoxicating warmth from Youji he once possessed. All he had were his memories and those were gradually fading away.

But there was one way Youji could stay with him forever.

A rumble sounded deep from within his stomach, reminding him it had been a while since his last meal. After he consumed the part of Youji’s neck regular food lost all of its appeal. Even hamburgers looked stale and dull in his eyes. All other foods were too bland and almost vile for his taste. The only thing that tasted good was the taste of Youji. His mouth drooled reminiscing about the saltiness of his blood coming out when he chewed on the tissue. He chewed and chewed but eventually he got it down. His jaw was sore from the effort the morsel took but it was well worth it.

He had been weeping into Youji’s shoulder but the smell of iron lingered in his nostrils though they were clogged with mucus. It was slowly driving him mad, being so close to the perfect food, ready for consumption. He ran his tongue over his chapped lips and pressed the tip against the groove in his love’s neck. At first he stroked his tongue against the lumpy surface to get the familiar taste but the more it spread over his tongue to stronger his licks became. While continuing to hold onto Youji, Makoto lowered his face slightly so his mouth was now at the bottom edge of the wound. Unable to contain his hunger he clamped his teeth so that the top row of teeth was partially in the wound while the bottom half pierced against unharmed flesh. Growling, he began to shake his head as he sunk his teeth deeper into the tissue.

With a final shake of his head the chunk of skin and tissue tore away from the rest of the neck. Makoto ran his tongue under the meat as it clung to his palette. The slick texture, the rusty tang, and the morbid lust being fulfilled was almost too much for his shattered mind to process. That corrupt nirvana once again burrowed its ecstasy into his soul. He swallowed, taking bliss in the way the meat slid down his throat and into his stomach. Saliva and blood dripped down his mouth, leaving a dull red puddle on Youji’s leg. Makoto dipped his index and middle finger into the puddle and scooped up some of the mixture with the tips of his digits. He brought it to his lips and gently pushed them into his mouth, letting his tongue lap at them. He removed his fingers and smiled softly. This floating feeling was the only pleasure he allowed himself to fully delve into.

This was the only thing he desired now. He never felt that tense heat begging to be released in the middle of his hips. Not since Youji went away. Now the only thing he knew was that salivating craving that would cleave his mind into pieces. Nourishing this wicked hunger was the closest he would ever be to attaining happiness. Makoto acknowledged that one day Youji would be no more. His hunger would eventually get the better of him and he would once again erase Youji’s existence from this world. It hadn't been that long but he could tell Youji was getting dimmer, his smell becoming more pungent by the minute. He could chop him into pieces and store him somewhere safe so he could keep him longer but he was afraid of tainting even a centimeter of Youji. He didn't want to waste even a hair from him. He had to keep this as pure as possible. Makoto laughed softly. He was never religious and couldn't understand why people would practice something they couldn't be sure of but here he was, treating this twisted indulgence similar to a spiritual rite. To some God was everything but for Makoto there was no God. Just Youji. Dear Youji.

His stomach growled fiercely once again tearing him from his thoughts. That small bite of flesh was nowhere near enough to fulfill his hunger, rather it merely awakened the beast that dwelled within. Makoto moved closer to Youji’s face and cupped his hands under his chin, slightly bringing his face towards his own. He pressed his lips against his chin, leaving a small trail of kisses from his chin to his lips to his eyes. Every kiss was an apology for everything that had transpired and everything that would transpire. His kisses ceased and he moved his mouth to the gap in his neck. His teeth found their way into the flesh and he began slowly stripping away the muscle. With every bite he felt more detached and the pain temporarily seceded. The only thing he could concentrate was the blood filling his mouth, the bits of dermis stuck in his teeth and the expanding weight in his stomach. With a sudden jerk in his throat and dry heave he knew he approached his limit. He hastily swallowed that last piece of flesh that remained in his mouth and shuddered from the sickly pressure in his belly.

His eyes hazily scanned over Youji’s neck seeing that the gash grew and now extended down to his shoulder. A small white line emerged in between the ridges of muscle. Makoto stuck out his hand and ran his fingers over the bumps. He’d only ever felt a bone from science labs in school but then the bone had been thoroughly cleaned. Youji’s bone was gristly, covered in thin tissue some areas more thick than others. It was strange being reminded that Youji was more than skin and muscle. He was also bone, blood and cells. As Makoto rubbed his fingers over the bone he felt the lull of sleep cloud his head. He’d been like this since he was little, after having a big meal he almost immediately was in need of a nap. He leaned in towards Youji once again giving him one more kiss. This time the kiss was a little deeper, moving his tongue in slightly and letting his glide against Youji’s own. It was a bitter kiss but also the sweetest one he’d had in a while. The red smeared over both of their lips and Makoto smiled.

“Youji, you look like you have lipstick on. Cute,” he fawned as he stroked Youji’s cheek.

Makoto lazily moved from Youji’s lap and to his side. He assumed the position he had before and snuggled against Youji’s chest. The dampness from the wound stuck to the top of Makoto’s hair but he didn’t care too much. His eyes felt heavy and his breath slowed. The feeling of nirvana was finally fading away but Makoto closed his eyes before he could realize the grim truths behind his actions.

“Youji,” he thought as he drifted towards nowhere, “Please wake me up soon, okay? I love you.”


End file.
